


The Author of Tragedy

by Anonymous_Writing_Stark



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Grayson | Purpled-centric (Video Blogging RPF), I will steal your knees if you ship minors, I'll add more as chapters are made, I'll figure the tags out, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Recovery, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), don't ship minors, let the kids be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Writing_Stark/pseuds/Anonymous_Writing_Stark
Summary: They say that being cursed is the worse thing that can happen. Well, one being is about to prove that wrong.aka I will make a better summary later, go look at dreamsmp-au-ideas on tumblr.
Relationships: Grayson | Purpled & Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	1. The Cursed Author

When one thinks of an author, they usually think of a person or being that has written something, whether it be a small poem or a multi book series. What one would not think is a being cursed by four powerful deities to suffer all of eternity for simply writing a book. And yet, there The Author was, bandages wrapped around themselves where wounds were placed, writing away as they ignored the pains of hunger and the numbing screams of the voices that plagued their mind. The Author was busy, writing down some new memories in a fresh journal, a phantom nearby wearing a special scarf that prevented them from burning in the light of day. 

The Author checked the time, seeing that it was time for the morning rations, and began to eat. When one is cursed by Famine, they have to get creative to cheat the permanent feeling of hunger. The Author did this by having two rations, a morning ration and an evening ration. They ate nothing more, nothing less. This was the way The Author had lived for thousands of years. The Author could still remember the day they were cursed, the memory never being overtaken by new ones.

***

_ When The Author found the four totems, they had been ecstatic. Their species was slowly dying out, with themselves and a few hundred being the last survivors. So, in secret, he began to copy the four books into a single, larger book. It took months to complete, but when it was, only half of the new book was full. For a while, things were looking up. They dared not to summon the four deities of tragedy, but they used the knowledge they now had to help his kind and any others in need. This peace lasted only a year. At the age of 15, they were caught. The four deities of tragedy were furious that a mere mortal would dare copy sacred texts. _

_ Famine was first, demanding that The Author destroy the book. When The Author refused, Famine cursed them with endless hunger, and to have no crop grow near them. _

_ Pestilence, at the time named Conquest, was harsher. It threatened The Author if the book wasn’t destroyed. The Author stood strong, refusing to give in. And so Conquest cursed The Author with voices that only they could hear, voices that would never stop. _

_ War was even angrier, attempting to steal the book. The Author fought back, striking the deity with their claws, something their kind had never done. And so War cursed them with an aura, one that would invite all living beings, plants or animals, to hunt them down. _

_ Death was more patient. It knew why The Author did this, but Death knew their kind could not be saved. Death asked for the book so they could lock it away. The Author made the vow that as long as they lived, the book would be added onto and they would guard it with their life. Death, saddened by this, cursed them with immortality. They would never die, nor age, but soon any wound they would gain would stop healing on their own until they were a mere soul trapped in a shell. _

_ And they left The Author to their fate, expecting them to break after a mere day. _

***

That was 3,516 years ago, and The Author continued to exist and travel. With Famine’s curse, they made the rations. With Conquest’s curse, they stopped speaking and used sign language. With War’s curse, they became an expert in many fighting techniques. And with Death’s curse...they wrote. They wrote old memories in separate books they kept in their ender-pack. And with the wounds, The Author simply hid them with bandages, only using potions to heal them if the wounds began to become a problem.

And the book they made had been updated, now only a fourth of it being empty. The Author gave it the name “The Book of Tragedies” after the four deities, as well as The Author’s life. They updated it when they learned new information, found new cures, and even a few curse breakers.

One thing the four deities of Tragedy failed to realize was by cursing The Author, they had gained a piece of the four. The Author could always feel when the rebirth cycle began, marking the event down in the books as the beginning of a new era. It was something that helped keep The Author sane. Writing was how they coped. And they didn’t plan on stopping.

Nowadays, they couldn’t even remember their species name, or their own name for that matter. All they knew was that they were The Author, and that their kind have been extinct for thousands of years. And throughout all those years, myths and legends sprouted of a fabled book that could cheat death, and its author who suffered for writing it. Many sought The Author out, only to flee when they felt the aura of hostility.

The Author almost missed the company of others...almost. They had grown used to being alone, with the phantom being the first company they had in years. The one true joy they seemed to feel was when the four cores tugged at them, letting The Author know that the four deities still existed.

One day, however, the cores tugged hard, as if a rebirth cycle was beginning again. The Author knew something was wrong. The cycle began after a hundred years. It had only been 16 years since the last cycle. Something was harming the deities. For the first time since being cursed, The Author was afraid. What would happen if the cycle happened so early? It didn’t want to find out. The cores were tugging from nearby.  _ ‘I am close’ _ The Author thought, standing up and packing everything up.

The run to where the cores tugged lasted only minutes as The Author saw buildings in the distance. They remained hidden, the phantom flying above for an aerial view. The Author held their sword close, ready to strike when needed. It was long and scythe like, but it could do enough damage when needed.

There, in a clearing of the town, stood four teenagers, clearly injured, and one green wearing masked figure looking over them. The Author recognized the four books that surrounded the figure. The four totems of the four deities of tragedy, the same books The Author had copied from so long ago. They watched as the figure spoke, however the voices kept them from understanding.

That’s when the figure pointed a sword at the teenager with blonde hair. The Author knew his core. War. War was injured by a mere mortal. The Author did so once, but it was a mere scratch. This was different. Before the figure could attack, The Author lunged out of hiding, striking the figure with a swift blow.

The figure stumbled back, revealing a white mask with a smiley face drawn on it. If the figure was speaking, The Author could not hear. The figure looked ready to attack, but hesitated as it watched the grass under The Author’s feet wilt away. If one saw The Author, they would assume they were looking at a strange undead creature. The bandages they wore clearly needed to be changed, and it didn’t help that The Author looked skinnier than what would be considered healthy.

The figure stumbled back, clearly off put by The Author’s looks. It didn’t help that the aura of hostility had grown now that The Author was actually fighting someone. The Author screamed of death, like they shouldn’t be alive. And yet there they stood, a pair of ragged wings suddenly expanding outward to shield the four deities. The wings looked so frail, that flight was impossible. A large portion of the membrane was missing, as if torn off in an older fight.

The figure made some hand gestures before running off, the four totems in hand. The Author would get them later. Instead, they turned to face the four deities, all who looked terrified of them. All except for one, the one with Death’s core. “You…” Death spoke, still shocked. Although The Author could not hear that, they could easily read Death’s lips as he spoke. The Author simply nodded in reply, the voices seemingly mocking Death for the single worded reaction.

“Tubbo, you know them?” Another spoke, this one wearing a purple hoodie, Famine’s core within him. So Death went by Tubbo. An odd name.

Death nodded in reply, then looked to The Author again, stepping forward slightly. When The Author moved to sheath their sword, death flinched. Did Death fear The Author? Why would Death fear them? They were still built like a mortal. Death was not. The Author decided to ignore the flinch, but watched the four deities. The Author may have saved them, but the four could still be bitter towards them for writing the book. They believed they were prepared as Death continued to step towards them.

What The Author wasn’t expecting was to be hugged. They flinched at the touch, used to getting grabbed like this during a fight. This was different. There was no hint of malice in the hug. The Author wasn’t sure how to react, especially when they felt tears form on their cloak. They had never had this happened. Not that they could remember anyways. Then, for the first time since their curse, they heard words that didn’t belong to the voices. “I’m sorry.”

The Author froze at this. Death was apologizing? Why? Death did nothing wrong. They looked to the other three, only to see looks of realization and horror on their faces. They recognized The Author now. Now the author was bracing themselves. The voices would help drown out the yelling, but they couldn’t do anything if the other three deities attacked.

Instead, the three moved closer and hugged them as well. Now The Author was uncomfortable. Why were they being nice? Even the voices were confused, most trying to find a way to justify this while others were screaming to run, to flee, that this was a trick. The Author decided to only partially listen to those voices and struggled free from the hug, backing away and watching the deities. Their cores continued to tug at The Author, but they could guess that it was because they were so close to them.

When Death tried to move towards them again, The Author backed up. The voices remained at their normal volume, begging for The Author to flee. The Author was tempted to, knowing that there was a large possibility that the four would try to destroy the book. Yet, none of them had an aura of hostility, not even War.

Death tried to say something, but the voices kept The Author from hearing. Death then signed “Can you hear us?”. The Author shook their head, signing back “Too many voices.” That seemed to get Conquest’s attention. Then, within seconds, the voices disappeared.

The Author’s eyes widened in horror. Where did they go? “Can you hear us now?” Conquest asked. The Author made no reply, clucking their head. The silence was painful, their head rang to try and fill the void. It wasn’t working. This didn’t compare to the pain they normally felt. The four seemed panicked at The Author’s reaction of not having the voices.

“!¡⚍ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ʖᔑᓵꖌ!” The Author screeched, throat seering in pain from the lack of speaking, “!¡⚍ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ʖᔑᓵꖌ, !¡⚍ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ʖᔑᓵꖌ!!” The ringing got stronger, trying to numb the pain of silence. The voices were gone, put them back. Put them back put them back **putthemback** -

The voices flooded back in, relieving The Author from the pain of silence. They never wanted to experience that again. The voices roared in anger for being silenced, with a few trying to reassure The Author. They glared at the four, anger in their eyes. So they did feel bitter towards them. The Author turned around to leave, ready to hide away, but stopped when Death grabbed them. The cores tugged at The Author, as if begging them to stay.

Death signed an apology for removing the voices and asked The Author to stay and rest. The cores tugged tighter. The Author was skeptical. They signed “And what of my book?” as a way to test them. Death shook his head, signing that he didn’t care about the book anymore. The Author remained skeptical, but decided to go along with the four deities for now.

The four deities had a different idea in mind: recovery.


	2. Rising Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Here are some sources you will need: https://lingojam.com/StandardGalacticAlphabet https://dreamsmp-au-ideas.tumblr.com/tagged/children-of-the-apocalypse-au

Ranboo could always tell when a day would be a bad one. He wasn’t sure what allowed him to have such powerful premonitions, but he could take a guess. Being the living embodiment of pestilence was his number one guess. He never minded this, as it helped him brace for the day. And when Dream had summoned he and his brothers in order to gain control over them, he knew that his feeling was right.

What he wasn’t expecting, nor did he prepare for, was encountering an entity one of his past selves “punished”. Only Tubbo really knew who they were and what they looked like, as he, Tommy, and Purpled had learned long ago that Death always remembered. So when the being stood before them, Ranboo wasn’t sure on what he should do.

One minute, the four had been fighting against Dream after a certain incident with Wilbur. The next, Dream had fled with the books, leaving the four with the being before them. Ranboo didn’t know too much about them other than their past selves cursed them a long time ago. He also knew that the reason for said curse was because the being had copied the four books into a single one named “The Book Of Tragedy”, which was dangerous but based off of copies he had found, it was meant to be a sort of book of life.

“Can you hear us?” Tubbo asked the being, who shook their head in reply. Ranboo could immediately tell why. Voices, similar to the ones Techno has, rang out from the being’s mind, almost deafening Ranboo to the point where he had to stop listening in. He knew the voices is one's head could be bad, but he never knew that they could get so bad that nothing else could be heard. This was confirmed to be the case more when the being signed “Too many voices”. In a swift motion, Ranboo removed the voices completely, hoping that things wouldn't be too overwhelming.

His fears were confirmed when not long after he asked if the being could hear them, they reacted violently. The being clutched their head and started screeching in an unknown language until Ranboo returned the voices. That wasn’t a normal reaction, but he had a few theories as to why they needed the voices back. But he could figure that out later. Right now, he was focused on both Tubbo and the being as they signed away.

Eventually, Tubbo managed to convince them to come with them to the community house, which wasn’t that far away. Oddly, as they walked, Ranboo felt like something was trying to leave him, like a piece of him was trying to escape. He looked at Purpled, who nodded. Both of them had the tugging feeling. Again, he had a few theories, but those could wait.

When the being entered the community house, the light inside better showed their features. They appeared to be a phantom/axolotl hybrid, having the tail, gills, and frills of an axolotl while they had the eyes, wings, and body color of a phantom. Yet, there was something about them that screamed “Not a hybrid”, although none of them knew.

“Tubbo...are they who I think they are?” Tommy asked, getting a nod in reply.

‘Why did you react that way when Ranboo removed the voices?’ Tubbo signed, causing Ranboo to pay more attention.

‘Silence is painful,’ The being replied, ‘Voices are calming and helpful.’ It paused before continuing, ‘Why do you call Conquest Ranboo?’

Ranboo nearly snorted at that. Conquest? He’d never been called that, only either Ranboo or Pestilence. But never Conquest. ‘Ranboo is his current name,’ Tubbo signed in reply, then looked to Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo, “I have no idea what we should do.”

“DO YOU HAVE A NAME?!” Tommy shouted, making all but the being flinch at the sudden noise.

‘If I did, I do not remember it,’ The being replied, ‘I have lived for 35 eras. Names are useless to remember.’

Taboo looked confused, then his eyes widened, “3,500 YEARS?!” He looked horrified. Ranboo got the jist quickly and felt his stomach drop in guilt. 3,500 years alive, when they should have lived until the end of their lifespan.

‘Why do you seem troubled? I accepted my fate long ago,’ The being signed, a clear look of confusion on their face.

“Accepted?! You never should’ve lived this long!” Tubbo spoke, voice slightly shaky from anger, “You shouldn’t have those voices! You shouldn’t be feeling so hungry or tired! You shouldn’t be a target all the time! It's not right!”

‘It is right for me,’ The being signed, making the four freeze, ‘It does not matter if it was wrong then. It is right now. I have lived this way for too long, it is the only way I know how to live.’ Silence. Nothing but silence. Although Tubbo was the only one that can fluently sign, everyone could read it, and everyone knew what the being had just said.

The being suddenly gained a look of fear and backed away, fragile wings moving to act as shields. This made Tubbo angrier. Not at the being, but at himself. “You shouldn’t even be afraid of us!” It sounded like he was pleading. Ranboo could feel the tugging feeling again, and right now he wished he knew what that was about since it was beginning to hurt.

Tubbo did his best to calm down and approach the being, only to get a strange hiss in reply. “ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ|| ʖᔑᓵꖌ!” The being snarled, tail thrashing.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Tubbo signed, ‘None of us are. I’m sorry I got mad, it's not your fault.’

The being’s eyes narrowed before their wings slowly folded back. ‘I know better than to challenge you four,’ The being replied.

That’s when Ranboo spotted blood, and his eyes widened. One of the many wrapping the being wore was beginning to show a shade of red. The being noticed Ranboo’s look and followed his gaze down. ‘That’s normal, I just need to change it.’

“I have no idea what wounds you have but they are not supposed to start randomly bleeding,” Purpled spoke up, although the being didn’t seem to catch what he said as it was busy digging through a bag.

Tubbo stopped the being. ‘How bad is it?’

‘Not that bad? I am unsure on what you mean?’ The Being looked to the other three, although their main focus seemed to be Purpled.

‘I mean, how bad is your healing?’

‘Nonexistent. Has been that way for 10 eras now. I use health potions, but sparingly as I do not need them.’

Tommy just fell to the floor in a sitting position while Purpled and Ranboo turned away. They had to be joking, right? But deep down, they knew that the being was being serious. ‘We can help with the wounds.’

‘I do not need help, Death. This is normal.’

‘It’s not normal!’

“Tubbo please tell me I read that correctly,” Tommy spoke, tone clearly a mixture of worry and annoyance.

“You did...and I think that might be my fault,” Tubbo replied, grabbing some bandages, “Purpled do you still have some potions on you?”

“I do. Regen or Instant health?” Purpled asked as he grabbed two bottles.

“Regen, I don’t want to send the body into shock.”

‘What are you doing Death?’

‘Helping you, and you don’t need to call me Death. You can call me Tubbo.’

‘And the others?’

‘War goes by Tommy, Famine goes by Purpled, and Conquest goes by Ranboo.’

The being nodded, then flinched back when Tubbo went to remove a bandage, shaking their head. Tubbo got the hint and backed up a bit. “So uh…” Tommy started when the being looked to him, “Do you have a name or what?”

The being shook their head. Ranboo thought, noticing the white marking on the being’s right cheek that looked like the Strad disc’s color. “Can we call you Strad?” Ranboo asked.

The being paused in thought, then nodded. ‘Do not expect me to remember it in 3 eras.’ Ranboo was grateful that he didn’t need to call them “The Being” anymore. Strad sat down on a nearby bench, looking at the four. ‘You four are weird.’

That seemed enough to shatter the tension in the air as Tommy burst into laughter, Tubbo, Purpled, and Ranboo following suit not long after. This just confused Strad more. ‘Was it something I said?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if anyone (especially Purpled) is ooc. This is a short chapter largely because this is part one of a two part chapter called "Introductions and Rising Tensions". Rising Tensions is first. The next will be introductions, where the cota four will introduce Strad to the server. Will I involve the egg plot? Maybe. Also minor note: This is canon divergent as it is being written with the assumption that Wilbur is going to be revived in April (This book takes place a day after Wilbur is brought back, and he will be a main antagonist. Sorry lol)


	3. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much ancient speak, so much translation. Also I will try to add a chapter once a week.

The author was confused to say the least. For one, the four deities had other names they went by, with Purpled and Ranboo being the only normal ones. Secondly, they had been given a new name. Strad. They weren’t about to complain, as they knew to be grateful that the deities were being so kind for the time being. Even calling them weird didn’t result in any stares. However that was as far as Strad wanted to push.

Another thing that was annoying but Strad wouldn’t complain about was the fact that they were wasting potions on them. They were now on their second regen potion and close to rejecting it. When Tubbo insisted, Strad gave in and took the second potion. Two larger wounds were now the size of simple cuts, with smaller wounds nearly completely closed up. They hated that. Sure, it felt nice to not be in pain, but potions were wasted when they could have been saved for something more important, like their body being on the brink of no longer working.

After a few minutes of the voices doing their best to convince Strad to let Tubbo help them, they finally allowed him to do SOME of the bandages, mainly ones that needed to be changed right then and there, as well as ones covering places that no longer had wounds. The wrappings around their waste and shoulder were not to be touched. While Tubbo got to work, Strad watched the other three talk about something. Their lips were hard to read, but from what they could make out, the three seemed to be talking about others. Did Strad know what these “others” were? No, but they could guess based on the fact that they were currently in a village.

When Tubbo finished, he helped Strad stand. ‘How do you feel?’ Tubbo asked.

‘Like I wasted valuable resources,’ Strad replied, ‘I understand one potion, but two? Those are valuable.’

‘We have plenty, we can spare some.’ Strad didn’t like that answer, but decided not to push it. It was best to just listen to what the deities said. Yet even after all this time, they had a strong urge to stand against them. Was it resentment? Possibly, but they tried to ignore the feeling. It helped that the voices were encouraging them to let the deities, but there was still the nagging feeling of rage within them. Strad decided to ignore it.

‘We want you to meet some people that can help you if we’re not around,’ Tubbo signed, snapping Strad out of their thoughts.

‘I do not need help,’ Strad replied, ‘But I do wish to meet them.’ Strad noted the sigh of relief Tubbo seemed to let out.

As the five left the community center, Strad was able to take in the large variety of buildings. Some of which towered over the land, but looked to serve no purpose. And then there was the strange red vines. When Strad had accidentally stepped on one while following the deities, it had shriveled up and turned to dust. “𝙹𝙹!¡ᓭ…” Strad warbled, noting that their throat was no longer sore. They assumed it was because of the potions.

Strad didn’t think of speaking too much, seeing as how they couldn’t hear themselves normal and barely did hear when speaking their native language, so it was pointless. Sometimes, they would utter a word or two just to remind themselves that they can speak. The deities looked back for a moment, but continued on, although Strad could practically feel the excitement radiating off of them.

Two of the first new people they met was on accident. Strad spotted a bumpy path and moved along it, ignoring as the white roses nearby began to wilt. They paused when they came across a grey house surrounded by those damn vines. They felt the rage within them bubble some more, moving towards them. They didn’t pay attention to the ground around them as the plants started to die, they were too focused on the vines. Placing a hand onto the nearest, Strad watched as it shriveled up and died. It moved on to the next, and then the next, until most of the vines were nothing more than dust.

That’s when the voices began to scream, telling them to turn. Strad did so, just in time to avoid a sword’s swiping at their face. They jumped back, watching as a Creeper hybrid pulled up a shield. Behind them looked to be a human, however she looked pale and had white roses on her. Strad didn’t care, the hybrid had attacked them. Before they could unsheath their sword, the deities raced over, appearing to be shouting at the two. Tubbo moved to be in between the three while Ranboo and Tommy seemed to be explaining the situation. At least that’s what Strad thought, as they were speaking too fast for them to read their lips.

The creeper hybrid then sheathed their sword, but kept the shield up, which was fair. Strad didn’t blame them for attacking, as they knew that was part of their curse. To forever be a target. While the hybrid had lowered their weapon, Strad kept their hand on their sword just in case. After a minute, Tubbo turned to Strad. ‘You need to stay on the path, you killing the flowers is hurting Hannah.’

Strad looked confused, until they spotted the wilted roses. Frowning, they gave a nod to Tubbo. ‘How do plants hurt someone?’ They then looked to Hannah, noticing how some of the roses had specks of red to them. They had never seen roses like that before, but they kept their distance. The girl, who Strad assumed was named Hannah, then spoke something. “╎ ᓵᔑリリ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᔑ∷ ||𝙹⚍” Strad spoke, causing the hybrid and Hannah to back up a bit. Okay, no talking. Or at least that was the plan until the hybrid spoke back.

“⍑𝙹∴ ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ ꖌリ𝙹∴ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ꖎᔑリ⊣⚍ᔑ⊣ᒷ?” Strad was taken aback by this. There was one key difference between their language and the one most spoke: their language was louder than the voices.

“╎ ᓵᔑリ ᔑᓭꖌ ||𝙹⚍ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭᔑᒲᒷ” Strad replied, their words muffled compared to the hybrids, “╎ ᔑᒲ ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌ╎リ⊣ ᒲ|| リᔑℸ ̣ ╎⍊ᒷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹リ⊣⚍ᒷ, ᔑリ↸ ╎ ∴𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ꖌリ𝙹∴ ╎⎓ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ ᓭ!¡ᒷᓵ╎ᒷᓭ ⚍ᓭᒷ↸ ╎ℸ ̣.”

‘You can hear that?’ Tubbo signed.

‘I can only hear my native tongue. Any other language fails to reach me.’ At Strad’s answer, Tubbo gained a determined look. They weren’t sure if they should be afraid or not.

They hybrid spoke to Tubbo for a moment before turning back to Strad, “リᔑᒲᒷ ╎ᓭ ᓭᔑᒲ, ||𝙹⚍ ℸ ̣ 𝙹𝙹?”

Strad snickered at that, “⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ꖎᒷᔑ∷リ╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌ ╎ℸ ̣ ? ᔑリ↸ ╎ ᓵ⚍∷∷ᒷリℸ ̣ ꖎ|| ⊣𝙹 ʖ|| ᓭℸ ̣ ∷ᔑ↸, リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ᓭᔑᒲ” When Sam gave an annoyed look, Strad couldn’t help but laugh a little. They were the same way when they began learning end speak. Over speak, or as many called it now “Ancient Speak” was a more difficult language to say due to some letters being similar. Not to mention, it was no longer the language used. That title went to “Common Speak”.

But it was nice to see someone else use over speak, even if they didn’t speak it well. While Sam and Tubbo talked, Strad looked to Hannah, who he saw approach him. He quickly shook his head, but Hannah stopped when one of her roses on her wilted. ‘Plants die around me. It's better if you stay away.’ When Hannah walked off, Strad assumed that was that.

Or they did, until Hannah came back carrying something in a pot. Strad spotted the black rose immediately and frowned, going to back up, “||𝙹⚍∷ !¡ꖎᔑリℸ ̣-” Everyone paused when the black rose suddenly grew bigger and started to sprout more flower bulbs. Strad dropped the plant in a panic, however the pot only chipped slightly. It stopped growing once it left his hands.

“I knew it!” Hannah spoke, Strad barely catching it. Hannah picked the roses up and handed them back to Strad, watching as it kept growing until it was the size of a bush.

“ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎ᓭ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ リ𝙹∷ᒲᔑꖎ, ∴⍑|| ╎ᓭリ'ℸ ̣ ╎ℸ ̣ ↸||╎リ⊣?!” Strad hissed.

“╎ℸ ̣ 'ᓭ ᔑ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ ∷𝙹ᓭᒷ. ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ||'∷ᒷ ᓵ𝙹リᓭ╎↸ᒷ∷ᒷ↸ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ʖᒷ ↸ᒷᔑℸ ̣ ⍑'ᓭ !¡ꖎᔑリℸ ̣” Sam replied.

Strad kept staring at the wither roses, completely dumbfounded as to how a plant would be growing with their presence instead of dying. “ᓵᔑリ ╎ ꖌᒷᒷ!¡ ╎ℸ ̣ ?”

Hannah nodded with a smile, “It’s yours.” Strad looked to the deities, then to the wither rose bush. Oddly, the roses gave off a soothing aura, almost as good as a health potion’s effect. Was it healing them? They didn’t know...but they liked the bush.

***

The walk to the next location was a bit longer, but Strad noticed how the red vines grew over the path. When given the chance, Strad reached up and touched the vines, letting them turn to dust. They did so a few times, noting how walking didn’t hurt as much as it did before. They kept quiet for now, but hoped that the deities were not interfering with them again. They did enough damage removing the voices not that long ago.

As the sun reached its highest, Strad set the bush into one of the backpacks (despite the fact that it wouldn’t fit all the way) and grabbed their noon ration, taking a bite. It was some cooked beef along with a carrot. It wasn’t much, but Morning and Evening rations were always the largest, with Noon and Midnight being the smallest rations. Purpled paused, watching as Strad finished the ration and continued forward. He was tempted to remove the hunger, but knew that would cause some damage. So instead, he dialed it back a bit. Strad noticed this, but assumed that the beef was more filling.

When they made it to the next location, Strad spotted several structures that reminded them of the desert people. They had been around for 5 eras, disappearing 7 eras ago when one of their “gods'' vanished. It was impressive. What Strad was the most surprised about was seeing someone somewhat familiar walk over. They looked to be a totem of undying with some shark features. The new being and Tubbo spoke, and Strad watched as the new one’s eyes lit up when they spotted them, “╎ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ʖᒷꖎ╎ᒷ⍊ᒷ ╎ℸ ̣ ! ᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍ ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ᔑ ⍑ᔑ∷ ̇/𝙹ꖎ𝙹ℸ ̣ ꖎ?”

Strad’s eyes widened at this. The only reason they still knew their species name was because they refused to let that memory get overwritten. “╎ ᔑᒲ...⍑𝙹∴ ↸╎↸ ||𝙹⚍ ꖌリ𝙹∴?”

The totem jumped with excitement, “╎ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎リꖌ ╎ ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ⍑ᒷᔑ∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ||𝙹⚍! ||𝙹⚍ ᔑ∷ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᔑ⚍ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹∷ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ∷ᔑ⊣ᒷ↸||, ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ? ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ 𝙹リᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᒲᔑ↸ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ʖ𝙹𝙹ꖌ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ∷ᔑ⊣ᒷ↸╎ᒷᓭ?”

“╎ ᔑᒲ, ᔑリ↸ ╎ ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ʖ𝙹𝙹ꖌ” as soon as they said that, Strad pulled out said book. The totem went to grab at it, but Strad snarled, “リ𝙹 𝙹リᒷ ╎ᓭ ᔑꖎꖎ𝙹∴ᒷ↸ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ∷ᒷᔑ↸ ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ╎ℸ ̣ , リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷ⍊ᒷリ ||𝙹⚍ ᓭℸ ̣ ∷ᔑリ⊣ᒷ 𝙹リᒷ”

“╎ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸, ᔑリ↸ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑリ ᓵᔑꖎꖎ ᒲᒷ ⎓𝙹𝙹ꖎ╎ᓭ⍑” So this totem was called Foolish. Strad could only assume how they got the name. The voices began to theorize, with a few theories nearly making them laugh.

‘Foolish has plenty of knowledge. If you need help with anything or are bored, you can see him,’ Tubbo sighed. Strad nodded, although they weren’t sure what kind of knowledge Foolish would know that Strad hadn't written down. They couldn’t help but wonder where they had seen Foolish from. They seemed familiar, yet they couldn’t place it. “⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ∴ᒷ ᒲᒷℸ ̣ ʖᒷ⎓𝙹∷ᒷ?”

“||𝙹⚍ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ∷ᒷᒲᒷᒲʖᒷ∷?” When Strad shook their head, Foolish continued, “╎ℸ ̣ ∴ᔑᓭ ᔑ ꖎ𝙹リ⊣ ℸ ̣ ╎ᒲᒷ ᔑ⊣𝙹, ʖᔑᓵꖌ ∴⍑ᒷリ ╎ ∴ᔑᓭ ᓭℸ ̣ ╎ꖎꖎ ᔑ ⊣𝙹↸. ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑᒲᒷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ↸ᒷᓭᒷ∷ℸ ̣ 𝙹リᓵᒷ ᔑリ↸ ⍑ᒷᔑꖎᒷ↸ ᔑリ ᒷリℸ ̣ ╎∷ᒷ ᓵ╎ℸ ̣ ||. ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓵᔑꖎꖎᒷ↸ ||𝙹⚍ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ !¡⍑ᔑリℸ ̣ 𝙹ᒲ 𝙹⎓ ꖎ╎⎓ᒷ”

Strad frowned, “╎ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ∷ᒷᒲᒷᒲʖᒷ∷ ⍑ᒷᔑꖎ╎リ⊣ ᔑリ||𝙹リᒷ, ||𝙹⚍ ᒲ⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ᒲᒷ ᓵ𝙹リ⎓⚍ᓭᒷ↸ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ ᓭ𝙹ᒲᒷ𝙹リᒷ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ.” They noted the sad look in Foolish’s eyes after they said that. Strad knew they had been in the desert kingdom before, as they had a collection of their history. But Strad has never healed anyone that they knew of.

“ᒲ|| ꖎᔑリ↸ ╎ᓭ 𝙹!¡ᒷリ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ ᔑリ||ℸ ̣ ╎ᒲᒷ ||𝙹⚍ リᒷᒷ↸! ╎'ᒲ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⊣ꖎᔑ↸ ᓭ𝙹ᒲᒷ𝙹リᒷ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌᓭ 𝙹⍊ᒷ∷ ᔑᓭ ∴ᒷꖎꖎ ᔑᓭ ╎ ↸𝙹.”

Strad laughed at this, “ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑリꖌ ||𝙹⚍, ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭᔑᒲᒷ ⊣𝙹ᒷᓭ ⎓𝙹∷ ᒲᒷ. ╎ ∴╎ꖎꖎ リᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ᓵᔑꖎꖎ ᒲ|| ꖎᔑリ⊣⚍ᔑ⊣ᒷ "ᔑリᓵ╎ᒷリℸ ̣ ᓭ!¡ᒷᔑꖌ" リ𝙹 ᒲᔑℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷ ⍑𝙹∴ 𝙹ꖎ↸ ╎ℸ ̣ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ᓭ.”

While Foolish and Strad continued to speak, Ranboo lowered the volume of the voices a tiny bit. They would have to remove their curses piece by piece to completely heal Strad, but they knew this was the right thing to do. One thing Ranboo had to make sure to do was to keep Techno and Philza away from Strad. None of them knew how the duo would react to a true immortal being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's three out of many characters needed to be introduced. I figured the first two Strad should encounter should be nature based, so I chose Sam and Hannah (she is recovering, hints white the roses are regaining their red). Foolish was an obvious choice as he was once a god.
> 
> Next chapter: Fundy doesn't have a good time and Purpled has to try and back out of the hit he took...and the someone takes notice of the newcomer.


End file.
